Breakfast at Midnight
by peachandbetty
Summary: If you haven't had next day pizza, you're lying. Heero winds down from a long-term mission commitment.


"All that's left is to arrange for the closure of the Argentina base. I'd recommend keeping a small security unit there until the end of the year but there's no reason the task force can't be re-deployed elsewhere."

Heero stood at attention, Preventer uniform sharp and crisp, waiting on his superior's acknowledgement of his debrief. Three years in South America heading the full disarmament of the region had felt like a lot longer, and somehow this final stage felt like the closing chapter of this part of his life. What suprised him was that it wasn't unwelcome.

"Sounds like everything's in order. Thanks for that. I like good news to end my day and it doesn't happen often. You're dismissed for now. Take a week and I'll see you back here on the forth to discuss your next assignment."

Heero resisted the urge to salute. A military woman no longer, Commander Une still gave off a presence that seemed to demand such an action and Heero still caught agents who had once fought under her doing just that. He gave her a stiff nod instead, thanking her for her praise and his week's grace before leaving her spacious office.

As he moved for the elevator he check his watch and upon seeing the hour he suddenly felt all the weight of his long flight back from his even longer mission hit home. He was never one to bother too much about sleep, he could go for a long time with very little and in the oddest of places, but every now and then he just felt the urge to curl up into something warm and soft and stay there. This was definitely one of those times.

The night air in Brussels this time of year was crisp in quite a pleasant way that served to take the sting off of his fatigue. In the colonies, climate control tended to take out that quality in the air and it was, to him, one of Earth's more redeeming features. The wisp of his breath caught on the cold wind as he found himself looking over at the ESUN embassy building.

It was an impressive feat of architecture. Quatre told him that the general feeling in the ESUN was that, as a new form of government, it seemed inappropriate to base their headquarters in one of the more iconic buildings of past governments that dotted the Brussels inner city. The new building was sleek and modern and the night sky and city glow reflected from its surface like a giant mirror. An urbanite at heart, Heero found it almost beautiful to look at.

A pang of guilt ruined the effect, however, when one window in particular caught his eye. Relena Darlian's office was higher up in the building than he would have liked (a quick escape a high office did not make) and to his surprise the light inside cast a blemish on the otherwise dark mirror of its surface.

He should see her. It had been nearly a year since he'd last contacted her, and she worried for him. It was an odd feeling. Until quite recently in his life, nobody had cared about him any manner beyond whether he was fit enough to carry out his duties. Relena had turned that up on its head from the day he'd met her and by the end of the two year war he found, selfishly, that it made him happy to have someone worry for him. The knowledge that someone would be upset if something should happen to him gave him an anchor to this post-war life that he would otherwise leave him adrift in the past.

His mind made up, need for warm softness aside, he crossed the wide street over to the embassy. It wasn't however, until he was in the elevator to her floor that anxiety crept in. She would be glad to see him, he knew. She would smile and make him feel welcome and, ultimately, make him feel like a terrible person. He'd let her worry for a year and there was no excuse for it other than the truth; he'd been busy. And somehow it didn't seem enough.

The door opened to a dark hallway. Apparently, even the janitorial staff had gone home for the night and he couldn't blame them. Nobody should be in this massive building alone at 12am. As new as the building was, it still had the same eerie vibe as any other after hours.

He paused in his step as he heard an ungracious grunt at the end of the hallway, accompanied by a soft cursing and the occasional knock against wood. As the moon came back out from behind the cloud, the light revealed the culprit and his target to be one of the same.

Relena Darlian looked almost comical, with a large archive box balanced under her arm on her hip, pencil in her teeth and other hand fishing through her purse for what he assume was her office key. He couldn't help the small quirk of his lips at the sight. She gave off airs of such grace to the entire world, and it had made them fall in love with her. He'd only seen it falter a few times but he counted himself lucky for the privilege.

He decided to take pity on her and gently pried the grey box out from under her arm, putting his other hand on the shoulder to quell the inevitable jump at his sudden presence. She did, regardless, give a slight chirp before seeing his moonlit visage at her side before a smile lit her own face. And suddenly his earlier misgivings seemed almost pointless.

"Heero. If it hadn't been for the complete lack of contact for nearly a year, I would say your absence had turned you a gentleman."

Almost.

"I sent a birthday card," he defended as he stepped through the door after her, "and a gift."

"That makes my sixth bear. I called this one Lancelot. The other knights are jealous of him because he has a bigger bow. Arthur will always be my favourite, though. He was there first."

As he listened to her regale him with the mundane details of her teddy bear army, he felt warmth settle in, and it was as though he had never been away. She pulled him back in effortlessly and he felt himself stabilise in her presence.

As he put the box down on her coffee table, he saw her in the light for the first time in three years. The woman he called his closest friend was, in essence, the same. She wore her emotions like fine jewelry but there was the slight dullness of a shadow there that disturbed him to see. She was the picture of feminine beauty, something as a man he hadn't failed to appreciate. But her slender frame fell too close to the side of skinny for his comfort and her naturally pale skin lacking much of its luster.

He didn't like it.

"I have black coffee or black coffee. I'm consistent that way." He was glad to hear the smile hadn't left her voice, however, despite her obvious fatigue. His own tiredness seemed to drift away and he felt the need to find a soft, warm place and lock her in it.

"Black is fine. Have you eaten?" It honestly didn't look like she had in a while.

"No. But now you mention it, now's as good a time as any." She said it as though the entire concept of eating to function was an afterthought. He wondered, if he hadn't mentioned it at all, would she have even remembered.

His worries, briefly placated, were once again on high as he saw her reach under her desk to pull out a large pizza box from the footwell. Pizza? That was her idea of sustenance?

He watched on in horror as the world's icon for elegance and refinement, front page of every woman's magazine that had circulated their way through the base for the last three years, picked up a stiff slice, giving it a slight sniff before taking a bite.

Heero had expected things to change over the year. A new hair-do, more womanly figure, a bit of height, maybe she'd need contacts. This, however, he had not been prepared for.

He found himself beside her, and without preamble, pried the offending item from her hand. She looked at him as though he'd grown a second head. As though _he_ were the one acting strangely.

"This isn't the first time you've skipped a meal, is it?" He sounded like a teacher scolding his student but he didn't particularly care. Patronise her he would if the need called for it and so far, this night had done little else but make him feel very much like he needed to do... _something._ Like there was a wrong he desperately needed to right.

"No," she admitted, at least sounding somewhat contrite, "but needs must. Night time is really the only moment I get to myself."

"You've always had time before," he accused, "what's changed?"

A flicker of sadness touched her eyes, and her smile lost its luster. "I feel sorry for my father you know. All the crap I gave him as a kid was entirely unjustified. The floodgates opened when I became an adult, you know? There's a sort of shield I got to hide behind as a teenager that disappeared the second I turned eighteen. The media, my colleagues, the president...it all came at me at once. I wasn't prepared for it and I'm still playing catch-up now."

Before him, the strong woman he had come to respect more than anyone, whom he called his friend, whom he valued more than anybody else just for being her, was in crisis. She likely didn't see it that way. From his short stint as her bodyguard, he had grown to know her quirks and flaws as well as his own, and he knew she would put everything else first, solve everybody else's problems, before even acknowledging her own. She managed the world's diplomatic core with dexterity and vast passion.

There was nobody to manage Relena Darlian.

"When did you last take a holiday?" He had already slipped into the authoritarian role. He may as well make the most of it.

She took a sip of her coffee, as though trying to force nonchalance and he knew he would dislike the answer.

"Seven months ago. Sort of. I should be able to take a week at the end of November, though."

"Sort of?" He didn't miss the way she skipped over that part and she should know better than to think he would.

"It...was more sick leave than holiday. But, it was still two weeks rest regardless of the circumstances."

Two weeks? "Relena. I'm not playing games. Not this late at night. Why were you sick for two weeks?"

He almost regretted the harshness of his tone, especially upon seeing her flinch, but this entire conversation was beginning to give him the distinct impression he had missed something very big. Each word out of her mouth made him less and less inclined to leave, despite the check in at his hotel ending in just an hour's time.

"A bullet. It missed," she was quick to reassure him, "but they wanted to keep me in until it healed properly. We thought it best to keep quiet about it so I couldn't go out in public for a while anyway."

Heero stood stunned, ice shooting from his chest to his fingertips. Shot. She'd been shot. All the misgivings he had before leaving for Argentina had come to pass and at that moment, he wanted to shout at her. He had told her before he left that if _anything_ happened that was even the slightest bit out of the ordinary, she should recall him immediately. He left under the full trust and assumption that she would care for him enough to respect his wishes. Why hadn't her security picked up on the attacker? Why had she been exposed to the danger? _Why didn't she call him?_

"Heero..."

The contrition in her voice broke him from his anger. She knew he was upset and he honestly didn't care. She broke her promise. She couldn't be trusted with her own damned life.

Her hand on his cheek made his jaw unclench and his eyes found hers. She truly was beautiful, and in that moment his anger flickered to a low simmer as he was reminded of the fondness he had for her, knowing that he wouldn't be this angry otherwise.

"Heero. It missed. I saw no reason to tell you because there was nothing that could have been done. The man had been vetted, and was known and respected for his political journalism. There was no reason to believe he would do what he did. I was...careless, and ignored my guard's request to pat him down. I thought it would be rude."

"Your guard should know better than to give in to a pretty face," Heero noted that there was still a bitter heat in his voice though the feel of her soft hand on his skin and the sight of her kind eyes imploring him to back down had eased him significantly. "He'll need replacing."

He didn't realise the implication of what he'd said until she fixed him with a curious stare that held the same shimmer of hope that had led him to take his first role as her guard those years ago. And though he hadn't intended it that way, he found that the thought held a salient appeal. He'd wanted to ask for a static assignment. His work in Argentina was exhausting and he found that the adrenaline rush he'd grown up on, thrived on, no longer held the appeal it once had. It was a good transition, to go from his eighteen year old self, restless from war, to the more subdued mission taking out the remains of small rebel factions. But now, the soldier in him seemed more and more a distant part of himself. After a lifetime never believing it possible, he felt ready to put it to rest.

Relena smiled, and he knew in that moment it would be too late to turn back. They both knew in that moment that, regardless of what had been intended that night, he was back in her life.

"I always thought you looked handsome in that jacket. I think I like having eye candy for a shadow."

As she toyed with his collar, teasing smile reaching her eyes and a warm heat prickling at the tips of his ears, it was, malnutrition and gunshots aside, as though he'd never left.

_

Author Note: I'm well aware Arthur technically wasn't a knight but fuck it.


End file.
